


Red on Black

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: When Keith is in need of a sharpshooter for a Blade mission -- and one he can actually trust to watch his back -- he knows exactly who to ask. Problem is, he hasn’t actually spoken to Lance (or anyone on Voltron) since he left for the Blade several weeks ago. But any awkwardness of working with each other again is the least of their problems once Lance gets shot. Because now... now he's bleeding out in Keith's arms and it's all Keith's fault.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 93
Kudos: 228





	Red on Black

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** early/mid season four  
>  **Warning notes:** blood :D

“You’re late.”

The words were curt and harsh and Keith regretted them as soon as they were out of his mouth as Lance’s large smile — and the first one he’d seen in _weeks_ — dimmed and the barest pink tinge crossed his cheeks, but…

But he was well aware of the more senior Blades standing behind him, watching Lance’s arrival and silently judging Keith for his choice of partner for this specialized mission.

He could tell they were not impressed with Lance’s late arrival — nearly twenty dobashes — and even less so by his appearance — too big of a smile, too cheerful a disposition, too young, too… too _human._

“Well, jeez, sorry,” Lance said, and the words and the exaggerated shrug were flippant but…

But they didn’t feel right. “I ended up with a Galra,” his gaze flicked quickly to the masked Blades, “Empire,” he hastily added, “drone on Red’s tail and figured you guys probably didn’t want it finding your base. And _you’re_ the ones who won’t accept transmissions from any ship that’s not the castle so how was I supposed to tell you I’d be late?”

All good, fair points.

But it didn’t matter. In the Blades those were excuses, not reasons. And excuses failed missions.

Excuses got people killed. 

“Red Paladin,” Kojak stepped up next to Keith and he could tell it was taking all of the senior Blades’ restraint not to step in front of him. He and Kojak hadn’t gotten off on the best foot as he was often team leader on Keith’s missions and they didn’t see eye to eye on the whole “mission before the man” bit because Keith would never, ever, leave someone behind again.

Not like Regris.

Kojak had complained multiple times to Kolivan but the fact of the matter was Keith was a huge asset to the Blade, easily their best pilot, and he wasn’t going anywhere. And now Keith had been given a special assignment.

Kojak had been assigned to be his partner.

They had both refused. Kojak because he refused to see Keith as an equal (“ _he is a_ kit,” he’d snarled at Kolivan as though age really mattered at this point in a war) and Keith because he needed to be able to trust the other person to watch his back and he knew Kojak wouldn’t. To both of their surprises Kolivan had made the determination Keith would continue with the mission… but it required a sharpshooter and Kojak was the best—

No, Keith had interrupted. 

He knew someone _much_ better. A secure, quick and somewhat awkward transmission call later (as Keith hadn’t talked to anyone from Voltron since he’d permanently left two weeks ago and calling up to ask for a favor seemed like a really shitty first contact) Lance was scheduled to arrive to the base at 2000 hours the next day and Keith would have to have been blind to miss first Lance’s surprise at the request and then the small, tentative, _proud,_ smile that it was his abilities they needed.

And now…

Now Keith felt like the biggest asshole.

“I will be accompanying you to our armory,” Kojak continued, “and then to outfit you in a Blade uniform.”

“Uh,” Lance’s brow furrowed slightly. “I brought armor and a rifle from the castle,” he patted the duffle bag slung on his shoulder. “They’re black and—”

“You will wear a Blade uniform and wield our weaponry,” Kojak interrupted him, “for if you were to fall we cannot risk any outside association that could tie back to the Coalition.”

Implied: because the Blade did not return for their comrades’ bodies and this was a dangerous mission.

Lance gave a tiny nod of his head in understanding and his eyes cut to Keith’s with something Keith couldn’t quite figure out except…

Except they looked _sad._

“Keith,” and even though Kojak had a mask on Keith knew he was scowling, “will meet us at the hangar for the debriefing.”

A dismissal if Keith ever saw one and he silently grit his teeth because while Keith was leading the mission on the ground Kojak was running ops from base and he was most definitely holding it above Keith’s head. 

“I’ll meet you at the hangar,” Keith said, directing his full attention to Lance and hoping the tone didn’t come off as hard as before, while pointedly ignoring Kojak — who he could feel bristling at such — and Lance gave him a nod, meeting his eyes.

The earlier hurt was gone, replaced with something that looked suspiciously like understanding and concern and Keith didn’t know how to feel about that.

He turned on his heel and left the room and thought behind. 

xxx

“So,” Lance pivoted his body slightly even though he kept his head forward, gazing out at the dark recess of space as Keith piloted them to their coordinates, “are all the Blades like that?”

Keith frowned, sparing Lance’s reflection in the window a glance. “Like what?”

Lance made some gesture Keith didn’t quite catch with his hand. “So… judge-y.”

“Judge-y?” Keith repeated, and despite himself he felt his lips pull up at the ridiculous word that somehow… somehow encompassed a lot of it. 

He could practically feel Lance’s raised eyebrow and Keith let out a soft sigh, as much a confirmation as he could give.

Yes, they were. The Galra viewed themselves as a superior, stronger race and looked down on something as weak as a human. They were also old — their average lifespan was six hundred years — and so Keith was practically an infant to them. He was the outsider coming in, both used to being a leader, not wanting to be one, and in any case he did things his way and they did not like that, did not like someone like him showing up some of their more senior members — and they were prideful. 

Keith was proud too. But… but he knew he’d made a mistake.

And now it was time to fix it.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said quietly, pointedly not looking at Lance, feeling his cheeks heat at even that admission. “That was uncalled for.”

“It’s all right,” Lance said, far more easily than Keith had anticipated, voice equally soft. “I understand why.”

And Keith realized with a pang that Lance really did. 

And… 

And he realized how much he _missed_ being at the castle.

At the castle with… with his _friends._

But Keith bit his lip before he could ask about them, ask Lance how he’d been, ask…

Ask did they miss him too?

Because they needed to be focused — “ _patience yields focus,”_ he could he hear Shiro murmur and he gritted his teeth against that pang of loss — because this mission was dangerous and there was no room for such thoughts.

But maybe, after…

If Lance wasn’t in too much of a hurry to leave, if Keith found the courage to ask and brave the stares of the Blades if Lance came to the cafeteria… maybe he’d want to stay after, eat dinner, and catch up. 

“We’re approaching,” Keith said instead of anything he really wanted to say, the Galra Empire base not even three minutes out now. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Lance gave a salute with a grin that looked so out of place on him with the black paneled sleek armor of the Blade, hood already drawn and shadowing his eyes.

It was a stark reminder to Keith that Lance was _not_ a Blade.

It meant that he would watch Keith’s back and Keith would watch his.

It meant that Lance was not so ruthless, not so heartless, as the company Keith had kept of late and he would have to remember that because Lance could not, would not and _should not,_ be forced to take a life to make things easier for them.

And it was a promise he made to himself that Lance would not be dying in black today. 

Keith’s hands tightened on the controls.

He should say something. 

_Be careful._

_Thank you._

_There’s no one I’d rather have watching my back._

_Please don’t die._

_I’ll protect you._

He swallowed. 

Focus.

And instead he said:

“Here we go.”

xxx

Lance was down.

Lance was down.

Lance was _down._

And it was all Keith’s fault. 

It was a sick mantra on repeat in Keith’s head as he pressed bundled gloves to the gaping, gushing wound on Lance’s stomach, crimson burbling up around his fingers. 

The mission had been going according to plan. They’d gotten into the base undetected, located the Druid created quintessence reactor they’d been sent to dismantle and copy, and…

Well, Keith supposed encountering guards had been more than likely so that part hadn’t even been a surprise either. Keith had charged headlong into the fray while Lance — after clearing out a swath of both guards and cameras — had scrambled up a ladder in the wall to a catwalk above to get into position for where he would need to shoot out the sensors in the _exact_ moment Keith walked on them. 

Apparently the Empire’s newest weaponry was derived from this reactor and its code and if they could deconstruct it they could deal a serious blow to the Empire. This was the _only_ known stationary model they had and so far attempts to recover weapons had been a failure.

And that meant the Empire was taking very, very, very extreme precautions to protect their reactor.

It was essentially boobytrapped in that the only person who could access its controls — spaced well over fifty yards on a single several foot wide walkway over a giant chasm — was the scientist who was in charge of it and it was programmed to his weight (of which they did not know) with random footfalls atop sensors in the walkway. If you were not the same weight…

Well, Keith hadn’t been told what had happened to the Blade members who had been sacrificed to learn that, to learn what sort of traps and protective measures had been taken so that even someone as skilled as a Blade had been killed from tripping the alarm.

But if they eliminated the sensors?

It should work.

Lance’s sniper rifle from the Blade had been programmed to shoot not just a laser but essentially a kill code to the alarm panel (again, Keith had not been told how they knew that and he hated that so so so much) and so long as he connected in the same moment _and_ also didn’t shoot Keith’s foot?

They’d be good to go.

It was complete insanity; around 60 footfalls and that was Keith running and elongating and that would make it even _harder_ for Lance, but…

But if anyone could do it it was Lance. 

And he had.

Keith’s heart had been in his throat the entire time, expecting every step to be his last, for the ground to drop out beneath him that not even a jetpack could save someone from, for Lance’s shot to strike his foot and he’d stumble and fall and that would be the end.

But they were perfectly in sync and Keith still couldn’t believe _anyone_ could shoot like that, could not believe _Lance_ could shoot like that and there was no fucking way Kojak could have done that.

Keith had downloaded the data and begun to make his way back across the pathway — following the trail of small, laser-made circles — when the door to the room had blown open and several soldiers had stormed through. 

And Keith, in the middle of the walkway, and needing to look down to watch his steps instead of laser blasts was an easy, vulnerable target.

Until Lance had made himself a better one. 

And now…

“‘s not… not that bad,” Lance gasped out even as he was going pale beneath his tan and he was slumping more and more over Keith’s arm from where Keith had caught him as he’d toppled off the catwalk once Keith had dispatched the guards.

He’d never stopped firing, not until Keith had made it safely back across.

“It’s bad,” Keith bit out, hands trembling as badly as his voice. 

This was a lot of blood. 

Lance had been shot in four places — right shoulder, stomach, left arm and left thigh — but whatever the weapons had been (probably powered by the goddamn quintessence reactor they’d come here for)...

They weren’t cauterizing like normal laser blasts. 

Every wound was still weeping blood; bright red on black and Keith’s earlier promise, Kojak’s words, were swimming around and around in his head.

It was wrong.

Everything about this was wrong.

And Keith knew they needed to stop the bleeding, but more than that…

They needed to escape. 

If they got caught here…

Then they were both dead.

(Instead of just Lance. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh _God.)_

Lance made a choking sound and blood dribbled down his chin. 

Internal bleeding. Expected given the wound, but…

But…

Dulled blue eyes widened and as they met Keith’s he could see the fear in them.

“That’s…” Lance licked his lips, smearing blood, “that’s not good.”

He gave another full body shudder and more blood splattered from his mouth.

Keith abandoned the stomach wound — the pressure wasn’t doing anything and he was wasting time — and shifted his arms to wrap around one of Lance’s shoulders, his other lowering towards Lance’s waist.

“Keeth?” Lance slurred his name. “Wh—”

He broke off with a choked cry as Keith rose up in one movement, staggering slightly as he shifted Lance into a fireman’s carry.

And he ran.

Keith didn’t know how he made it back to his cloaked ship, didn’t recall much of the sprint interspersed with purple blood flying as his sword cut through anyone that crossed their path, except that he could feel Lance’s blood soaking into his uniform, dripping down his back, and how Lance’s gasping breaths were growing quieter and quieter.

But he made it back and he slammed a hand down on the preprogrammed autopilot — set to a satellite of no importance except that it wasn’t near base in case he was followed and he’d figure it the fuck out later — and then nearly ripped the emergency kit off the wall, scattering its contents as it flew open.

Lance didn’t even say anything to his loud cursing as shaking hands chased down the bandages and the folded cloth pads for compresses and a quick glance up revealed barely half-lidded eyes looking at him. 

Bloodied lips pulled up into a ghost of a smile as he met Keith’s eyes. 

“Gonna… gonna be okay,” he rasped. 

Keith didn’t know if Lance was talking about himself, Keith, the situation or all of it.

There was only one correct answer though.

“Of course you are,” Keith said roughly, pushing the compress atop Lance’s stomach and taking comfort in the groan it elicited because groaning was good because it meant alive. “Because,” and God, his voice was becoming just as breathy as Lance’s, “because you have to be.”

Because Keith had promised Lance wasn’t going to die wearing blood-painted black.

Because Lance had so much still to do.

Because Keith couldn’t lose him too.

“Kay,” Lance whispered.

His eyes fluttered closed. 

But his chest still rose, his blood still ran, and his lips were still pulled up into a breathless smile.

Keith took that assurance, that promise, for everything it was worth.

Lance was going to live. He was going to be okay.

Keith pushed down on the compress.

And red ran on black.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping perhaps this goes over better than my newest Keith-centric piece ^^; After the warm welcome back to AO3 on _Tattered Smile_ seems like a lot of readers have poofed again ^^; But this story had super crazy Blade mission, BAMF Lance, scared and worried Keith, and look, a cradling in the arms scene... all good things, all good things ;) If you enjoyed the story please leave a comment for the author -- while I do adore long, detailed comments a short and sweet thank you or little note means a lot too ♥ And before anyone inquires, yes, this story is complete and no, there is no sequel ;) (p.s. If you like Keith angst please consider checking out my new posting chaptered fic _Victory or Death_ as it could use a little love too ♥)


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